


Public Exhibition

by Truth



Category: Princess Princess
Genre: M/M, canon crossdressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-24
Updated: 2007-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/pseuds/Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few things have remained unresolved since Sayaka's withdrawal from Toru's life, and the effects are beginning to be visible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Exhibition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Yaoi Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/yaoi_challenge/profile) Obscure Fandom Challenge 2007.

“We’re going to be _late_!” High heels tapping, multi-layered skirt, swirling, long, elaborately curled hair flying from beneath a delicate, lace-trimmed bonnet, the possessor of that rather masculine voice looked like an illustration from a gothic lolita publication. Yutaka Mikoto made a sharp right hand turn as he exited the Home Economics room, a maneuver that would have left any young man slightly less accustomed to running in nearly three inch heels on the floor with a badly twisted ankle.

Directly on those very high heels came a second lace-trimmed and corseted young lady, this one with long blue ribbons trailing in her wake as she struggled with the tie on her bonnet. “We are _not_ going to be late!” With a slight skid for his own turn, Kouno Toru shot after Mikoto, not exactly shattering the illusion of feminine grace so much as gently dispelling it.

Even in high heels, enveloped in enough layers of petticoats and lace to outfit an entire bridal party, the two pretty girls ran like boys – hence the injunction that the Princesses of Fujimori High School were _never_ to do anything so unladylike as to run madly from place to place. However, with the tight schedule said Princesses had been given to pursue, it was nearly impossible to get anything done if they _didn’t_ pelt madly from place to place – which explained the turn of speed, even in their incredibly frilly and impractical costumes.

A momentary pause followed before a third frill-bedecked figure appeared, this one cutting the corner a little too closely, and coming to a horrified, frozen halt as the sound of rending fabric was heard and the pretty lace bonnet, long, elaborately curled wig, golden ribbons and all, was dragged from his head. Taking a horrified breath, he didn’t have time so get out so much as a word before an anguished cry was heard behind him followed immediately by the sound of a scuffle. As he turned to retrieve the ruined wig and bonnet, a black clad arm emerged from the Home economics room, brandishing a few bits of lace, some golden ribbons and a comb.

“Just go, Princess,” he was advised by a somewhat strangled voice. “Get someone to do up your hair. We’ll hold him as long as we can….”

Yujiro snatched the offered ribbons and fled, one hand pulling his own long hair free of the pins that had kept it secured under the corkscrew curls of the wig. Natashou would be devastated by the fact that his three Princesses would no longer be a matched set, but making an appearance was more important than triple perfection, and perhaps something could be salvaged after all. At least he wasn’t Mikoto or Toru, with their short hair. Even with carefully applied make-up and elaborate costumes, neither of them would be able to pull off an outfit like this without their wig.

Thankfully, today’s exhibition of what Mikoto liked to call ‘Dress up and act the fool’ was not one of the Princesses’ more public appearances. Morning classes for all three first year students had been excused so that they could wish the school’s drama club good luck as they prepared for a public performance later that afternoon for a select group of parents and alumni.

Everyone _knew_ that the Princesses were male students, dolled up and smiling to help ease the understandable tensions present in an all male population at a boarding school… but the illusion was supposed to be _perfect_ , and Yujiro could easily imagine Natashou’s dramatics as his assistants kept him from chasing him down and dragging him back for a re-fit of his wig and repair of his bonnet. It couldn’t be helped, really, and Yujiro continued to shed hairpins in his wake as he ran after his be-ruffled companions, hoping there’d be enough time for _some_ sort of salvage attempt before appearing before the entire drama club.

“What the….”

“Yujiro, what happened?”

By the time Yujiro caught up with Mikoto and Toru, he was entirely out of breath and wheezing in a decidedly unladylike manner. With a grimace, he mimed having the wig torn off his head and thrust the handful of lace and ribbons at Mikoto.

“Oh no. No way. I know _nothing_ about hairdressing.”

“No one,” Toru pointed out, snatching the ribbons away, “is casting aspersions on your masculinity, Mikoto. You have a sister and she has long hair. You have a girlfriend, _she_ has long hair… you can’t possibly never have at least tied a ponytail before.”

Mikoto flushed and made flapping gestures with his hands, glancing up and down the hallway outside the small auditorium as if afraid someone might have heard them.

Rolling his eyes, Toru turned to Yujiro. “How much time do we have?”

“Four minutes, maybe,” Yujiro took another wheezing breath. “The drama club is _never_ on time.”

“Time enough, I hope.”

“At least it wasn’t the corset,” Mikoto offered, unhelpfully.

Yujiro gave him a dark look. “… and I see _you_ have a run in your stocking.”

“Where? Where?”

Toru hid a smile as Mikoto tried to glance over his own shoulder, picking up each foot in turn and looking back over his starched skirts to get a glimpse of the backs of his legs. “That was mean.”

Yujiro shrugged. “He deserved it and we’re losing time to his dramatics.” The small comb made an appearance and he dragged it ruthlessly through his hair. “Any ideas?”

“I’m not a hairdresser either,” Toru pointed out, deftly sorting through the ribbons and curls of lace. “Got any hairpins left?”

“A few.” He was _still_ fishing them out of his hair, wincing as the comb caught. Yujiro grimaced, wishing they had time to find a mirror. “We can’t put it _up_ , or it’ll look odd against all your curls.”

“Pigtails again,” Toru decided, squinting at the ribbons before holding them out to Yujiro. “We can make curls out of the lace – you’ll be frilly enough to keep even Natashou happy.”

“Tell me you have elastics in that lot….”

“I do _not_ have a run in my stockings!”

Yujiro ignored him as elastics were found and Toru pulled the comb through his long hair one last time. Sighing, Toru offered, “You could use all that extra energy you seem to have found by checking to see if the drama club is ready for us.”

With an indignant scowl, Mikoto turned on his heel and flounced through the door into the auditorium, leaving Toru with his hands buried in Yujiro’s long hair and looking down at the back of his roommate’s head.

“I can do the pigtails myself,” Yujiro pointed out, sorting out the lace and twisting it swiftly into curls.

“Not without a mirror, you can’t.” Toru was busy with the elastics and hairpins now, not an easy task, but one he’d seen done often enough before. He could cover any loose bits with the ribbons and lace easily enough, so all he had to do was be certain the pigtails were even. He’d often wondered why Yujiro wore his hair long, especially given Mikoto’s furious reaction whenever anyone implied that his own looks were less than completely masculine. It didn’t seem to be a sign of vanity, for all that Yujiro was certainly pleased with his own looks….

“Hello, Toru? What’s taking so long?” Yujiro sounded more worried than irritated and Toru jerked back to himself to discover that he’d wasted an entire precious minute, hands simply gently combing through the hair that he’d gathered for the pigtail. He nearly dropped it, flushing slightly, and concentrated on tying it off before snatching the rest of the elaborate trimmings from Yujiro and concentrating furiously on getting his fellow Princess into ‘her’ proper state of elaborate perfection.

Yujiro was left blinking uncertainly at the sudden flurry of activity around his head, coils of lace spilling into his eyes as Toru secured them to his pigtails with the long trails of ribbon. It wasn’t like Toru to be distracted, especially when they were in a hurry. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong only to be forestalled by the flash of a camera.

Turning his head as Toru’s hands went suddenly slack, Yujiro found himself face to face with a small horde of students from the drama club, most of them obviously smitten with the scene they’d been inadvertent witness too, with a furiously flushing Mikoto, face mostly buried in his hands, behind them.

Yujiro dredged up a ladylike flush and raised a hand to his mouth. “Oh my. I’m so pleased to see everyone and so sorry that I’ve caused a delay.” Moving his hand slightly, he smiled at the entire group as he discretely elbowed Toru, using a sweep of his arm and the convenient fall of lace at his elbow to disguise the gesture. “We’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Jolted back into motion, Toru offered a similar sweet smile to the group. “We’re almost done. Please find your places in the auditorium and we will join you there.”

With a reluctant, sideways shuffling motion and a great deal of nudging and whispering and wistful smiles, the crowd of boys passed them and filed into the auditorium. Mikoto waited until the last one was safely inside before closing the doors and leaning on them. “What did you think you were doing?” he hissed, peering over his shoulder at them as he made sure none of the drama students were listening. “You looked like an illustration from one of Makoto’s magazines on ‘Forbidden Love’, all wistful smiles and sad, longing looks.”

He was a little pink as he glared at them. “Am I the _only_ one who is at all concerned about _dignity_ here?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Yujiro told him, sweet smile vanishing as if it had never been. He gave Mikoto a narrow-eyed look. “We’re not the ones who’ve been reading their sister’s collection of romantic stories, after all.”

Mikoto turned a bright red and began sputtering as Toru tied the final knot. “It’s done,” he declared, somewhat flatly, stepping back to look at the cascading lace curls. “It looks… nice.”

Yujiro twisted to look back at him, one eyebrow climbing skyward. “’Nice’,” he echoed. “You’ve such a way of inspiring confidence, Toru.”

“It looks _fine_ ,” Mikoto snapped, still blushing a dark red. “And we are now officially _late_ , can we get on with this?”

With a sigh, Yujiro tossed his head, making certain that the pretty falls of lace and ribbon were securely anchored. “Right. You’re the one holding the doors closed, Mikoto. Let’s go.”

**

The drama club was properly appreciative of their somewhat mismatched Princesses, and further pictures were taken, ostensibly for the drama club’s scrapbook. Smiles and waves and wishing each member the very best of luck and numerous broken legs took almost two hours.

By the time it was over, the three Princesses were very tired and most of the curl had gone out of the lace in Yujiro’s hair. The entire thing had run late, late enough that making their way to what was left of morning class would be a waste of time.

“My feet hurt.” Mikoto sighed and swung his legs, looking over at Yujiro who was attempting to salvage his hairstyle.

“My _face_ hurts,” Yujiro responded, rubbing gently at his temples. “My hair is tight and I feel like I’ve been smiling for hours.”

“We have.” Toru’s hands were folded against the stark black of his skirt and he was staring past them down at the toes of his extremely pointed shoes. “But it’s over. Finally.”

“Don’t start relaxing yet,” Yujiro reminded him dryly. “We’ve got to change, find lunch, get to afternoon class… and then there’s visiting the baseball team before dinner.”

“I’m not going to change,” Toru announced, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “It takes too much time and I don’t really want to sit and watch Natashou mourn for Yujiro’s wig and bonnet for a half an hour before being allowed to have my lunch.”

Mikoto blinked, as if considering the logic in this and looking for a flaw.

“I won’t change either,” Yujiro announced, grimacing. “If I can keep out of his way until after the baseball team is dealt with, I can plead homework and get away relatively quickly.”

“ _I’m_ not going to spend my entire day in a dress,” Mikoto declared, taking a somewhat indignant stand – literally, as he hopped off the table where he’d been perching, sore feet and all. “I have _some_ pride.”

“And a girlfriend who thinks you look cute in a dress,” Yujiro pointed out dryly as Toru hid a smile behind his hand. “Give it up already, Mikoto.”

Mikoto stuck his tongue out at Yujiro and attempted to stalk off with dignity. Due to the layers of ruffles and elaborate curls, however, it was definitely more of a flounce.

Toru watched him go, smiling as he murmured, “He’ll never change.”

“Would you want him to?” Yujiro shrugged, question obviously rhetorical. “Let’s find a mirror. If we’re going to skip out on Natashou, we don’t want him to catch us looking less than perfect.”

**

The Princesses were barred from using the school restrooms, for obvious reasons. Not wanting to risk an encounter with Natashou in the make-up room, Yujiro and Toru ended up in the infirmary. While Yujiro re-did his pigtails and checked his make-up, Toru sat quietly at the end of one of the nearby cots and waited for him to finish. It wasn’t until Yujiro was halfway through a careful re-application of his lipstick that he noticed Toru watching him.

Hesitating for a moment, watching Toru’s reflection, Yujiro debated whether or not to say anything. Between the odd incident with his hair and now this quiet… well, it wasn’t quite _staring_ , more of a thoughtful weighing up. He decided that it would probably be a good idea to say something about it. Closing the tube of lipstick, Yujiro turned to look directly at his roommate in turn, frowning slightly.

Really, Toru made a very appealing girl. That was why he’d been chosen to be a Princess, after all, but Yujiro found himself trying to see beneath the layers of fantasy and carefully chosen accessories, suddenly reluctant to try to discuss this with the illusion between them.

“You’re not a girl,” he found himself saying, pointing the lipstick at Toru.

Toru blinked at him, eyebrows shooting upward. “I should hope not.” He frowned. “Are you feeling all right, Yujiro?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yujiro told him, scowling as he groped for the correct words.

“… I _am_ a girl, then?” Toru stared at him blankly for a moment. “You didn’t knock your head when you lost your wig, did you?”

“No!” There was a moment’s pause as Yujiro dealt with the festoons of lace that had ended up in his eyes with the abrupt negative movement of his head. “I meant that… I’m not a girl _either_.”

The pause that followed was possibly the most awkward ever to have fallen between them as Toru’s expression slid into one of genuine worry. “… I’ll get the nurse.”

“Toru!”

“No, you just… wait there. I’ll be right back.”

**

Yujiro never got his lunch, subjected instead to a careful screening for concussion while Toru hovered worriedly in the background. By the time it was all over and he was declared in perfect health, Yujiro’s main desire was to hit someone – frilly lace gloves or no.

The worried looks that Toru kept shooting his way during class did not help in the slightest and it took real effort to smile and wave at the baseball team while they did their warm-ups. By the time they arrived back at the home economics room to change back into their normal school uniforms, both Toru and Mikoto were shooting worried glances at him behind his back and, as a result, he’d completely forgotten about Natashou.

“Shihoudani!!!!”

As Natashou bore down on him, wig in one hand, neatly repaired bonnet in the other, Yujiro looked around desperately for some way of distracting him only to find that Mikoto and Toru had taken the coward's way out and already disappeared to change, leaving him standing alone and unprotected before the wild gestures and disappointed outcries of the excitable senior in charge of the Princesses’ wardrobe.

‘… someone,’ he decided, attempting to fend off Natashou’s outcries about ruined images and the shame of it all, ‘is going to pay for this.’

**

“Really, it was just… weird.” Toru was poking at his plate without much appetite. He glanced up, adding dryly, “Although I know I’m saying this to the wrong audience.”

Sakamoto Akira had eaten earlier and was perched in Yujiro’s normal seat at the Princesses’ table, He had the grace to flush slightly at the comment. Mikoto merely shrugged, his normal good humor very much back in evidence now that he was out of his skirts. “At least he doesn’t’ _tease_ you. He drives me nuts!”

“You know he doesn’t mean that,” Sakamoto soothed, waving his hands. “Really, Yutaka, you take everything so seriously.”

Mikoto growled at him, but went back to his dinner. They’d all grown used to the stares and occasional whispers – even dressed in their normal school clothes and obviously male, the Princesses were still separated, eating at their own table… but it meant continuing to act with dignity and reserve – which wasn’t always easy.

“No, really.” Toru looked up from his dinner and sighed. “He told me I wasn’t a girl.” The identical blank looks given him by his tablemates made him sigh. “I… never mind.”

The sound of footsteps brought the blank looks upward to look over Toru’s shoulder and Sakamoto rose from the seat he was occupying. “Ah, Shihou… Yujiro.” Sakamoto smiled at him and stepped away. “How are you feeling?”

Yujiro flashed him a bright smile. “I escaped without permanent trauma, no thanks to the faithless desertion of my so-called comrades.” He gave Mikoto and Toru a dark look. “For which you will _pay_.”

Mikoto rose immediately, empty tray in hand. “Homework,” he announced shortly, and fled.

Raising both hands, Sakamoto took one step back and then a second. “I, ah, I have a meeting with Arisada and I’m already late….”

They fled, leaving Toru alone with Yujiro. Dropping into his chair, Yujiro set his tray on the table and glared across the pretty rose centerpiece at his roommate. “Like rats deserting a sinking ship. Now _you_ know how it feels.”

Toru held up both hands, nearly overturning his water glass. “If it had been me, you would have abandoned me without a backward glance,” he accused.

“That,” Yujiro told him frostily, “has nothing to do with it.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless this is about revenge?”

“R-revenge?” Toru glared back at him. “You _did_ hit your head and the injury has driven you mad.”

Yujiro growled at him, inadvertently a near perfect imitation of Mikoto’s earlier reaction, and turned to his dinner. Ninety seconds later he snapped, “And stop _watching_ me. It’s creepy.”

He hadn’t even looked up, and Toru blinked, taken aback both by the tone and the fact that Yujiro was aware of his scrutiny. “… what?”

“You keep _looking_ at me.”

“I look at Akira, too,” Toru pointed out indignantly. “I look at a lot of people.”

“It’s not the same.”

That was true enough and Toru couldn’t deny it. On the other hand… there was really no graceful way out of this conversation. Taking his tray, he stood. “You’re being unreasonable.”

Yujiro stared up at him, startled by the lack of denial, but Toru was already turning away. As the whispers began at nearby tables, he bit back a groan. Having an argument in public really wasn’t the _brightest_ thing he could have done… and as a hand came down on his shoulder and a familiar voice was suddenly at his ear, he _knew_ that his bad day was about to become worse

“Why, Shihoudani… that’s hardly the poised and refined behavior we’ve come to expect out of our Princesses.”

“President Arisada.” Yujiro resisted the urge to bang his head on the table, only because his dinner was still in the way. He turned his head to encounter a focused, narrow-eyed, _smile_ of pure menace. ‘… help….’

**

By the time Yujiro dragged his way back to P-room, the lights were out and Toru had been curled up in bed for an hour, wondering just what had happened to his feckless roommate.

Closing the door behind him, Yujiro leaned against it for a long moment. As Toru opened his mouth to ask, one weary hand came up to forestall him. “Three hours of drill on deportment and proper behavior. I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was a nasty gleam in his eye as he looked up at Toru, who was peering down at him from the upper bunk. “Arisada wants to see _you_ tomorrow morning before classes.”

“… what?!”

“Sleep well!”

**

“There must always be harmony amongst the beautiful flowers of Fujimori,” Arisada smiled brightly at Toru, who sank down a little on the couch.

Yujiro hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the Student Council President had wanted to speak to Toru. He’d barely had time to swallow his breakfast before finding himself ensconced across from Arisada in the Student council meeting room.

“Harmony,” Toru repeated obediently, wondering where the slightly sinister Arisada was going with this.

“Our Princesses are a symbol of solidarity,” Arisada continued, leaning forward and smiling cheerfully. “They are our inspiration and our pride.”

“Pride,” Toru parroted, beginning to look slightly uneasy. He glanced around and found no reassurance in the brightly smiling faces of the rest of the Student Council. Not that he’d expected it. The Student Council seemed to exist solely to cheerfully and relentlessly enforce the edicts of the President.

“In light of your public… disagreement,” and Toru twitched a little at the dark gleam in Arisada’s eyes, “we feel it would be best if you and Shihoudani had an equally public reconciliation. As soon as possible, naturally.”

Toru sighed, shoulders slumping. When Arisada wanted something, it was always safest to simply agree - and keep an eye out for the inevitable ulterior motives. “Naturally.”

Arisada eyed him thoughtfully. “Unless you’d prefer that Natashou hear about first…?”

The mere thought of the reaction, or over-reaction of the Princesses’ designer to the thought that his prize creations had been seen publicly arguing, had Toru wincing. “No, President Arisada.”

“Very well.” The bright smile returned and Arisada clasped his hands, well pleased. “This afternoon, then. We’re having a meeting to discuss the organization of a trip to the National Museum. The two of you can have a happy re-union prior to our opening of the floor to the student body for general discussion.”

Sheer force of will prevented Toru from repeating ‘general discussion’ and he shook himself back into shape. “All right.”

After all, Yujiro couldn’t possibly still be upset over yesterday’s disasters… could he?

**

“He wants us to _what_?” Yujiro was forced to hold perfectly still as Natashou fussed madly over his latest creation, making certain that the delicate yellow dress draped _exactly_ right.

“This is just perfect, _perfect_! My tour de force!”

Toru spoke directly over the top of their designer’s ravings, well used to it by now. “Have a public ‘reconciliation’.” He stood perfectly still as one of Natashou’s assistants carefully sewed a crown of flowers into his wig, eyeing Yujiro’s outrage with apprehension. It was safe enough to discuss. Natashou wouldn’t notice anything short of a split seam at this point, and Yujiro wouldn’t risk that, no matter how peeved.

“What, exactly, did he have in mind?” Yujiro demanded.

Behind them, Mikoto was edging slowly toward the door, his own pretty sundress perfectly draped, his high-heeled sandals already on his feet and his flower-wreath with artfully curving ivy over one ear. “I’ll just… check on the arrangements, all right?”

Toru gave him a dirty look as he fled, turning his attention back to Yujiro with a jerk as Natashou rounded on _him_ for a lecture on slouching and what it did to the lines of his magnificent creation. Taking the first opportunity when he thought he could be heard, he offered, “I don’t know. Holding hands? Cheerful smiles? A few choruses of some song about friendship and togetherness?”

Despite his own irritation, Yujiro blinked. It wasn’t like Toru to descend into sarcasm, especially when this entire incident had been spurred by _his_ actions. Recovering, he turned a razor-edged smile on Toru. “I have _just_ the thing.”

“What?” Toru demanded, twitching a little under Natashou’s somewhat over-enthusiastic fussing.

Fingers twisting the pretty flower and ivy wreath, Yujiro gave him a bright, malicious smile. “You’ll see. Ten minutes, Toru… don’t be late!”

Toru was left staring after him, wondering just what had happened to his roommate to make things suddenly so _difficult_ between them, and entirely mistrusting that smile.

Outside the room, however, Yujiro didn’t get far. Mikoto had been waiting for him just down the hall, and caught him by the elbow. “Hold it right there.”

Taken aback, Yujiro paused. “What?”

“What’s the matter with you?” Mikoto demanded, darting glances up and down the hallway as if afraid of being caught. “Getting into trouble, telling Konou he isn’t a girl….”

Yujiro blinked, arrested by the thought as Mikoto turned pink. “It does sound a little odd when you put it that way.”

“This,” Mikoto decided, fighting down his blush, “is because you two never got past that whole thing with Sayaka. There was that… that _kiss_ and then he sort of freaked out at her when she said you two were… and well, now the two of you look at each other funny when you think no one is watching.”

There was a long silence as Yujiro digested that, eyes wide with surprise. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Mikoto let go of him as if he were red hot and waved his hands. “You mean it _isn’t_?”

“No, I mean that it _is_ ,” Yujiro told him absently. “I just hadn’t thought that it was mutual.”

“It _is_?” Mikoto was now practically flailing. “I don’t want to know any more. I don’t. That’s enough.”

Yujiro eyed him with amusement. “Then why did you bring it up?”

“Because it has to stop!” Mikoto hissed at him, glancing around again for any inconvenient witnesses. “You’re acting like my sister on one of her rampages and Konou is getting all strange and dream-eyed and just… weird. It’s making things difficult.”

“It’ll stop,” Yujiro soothed him, looking back at the Home Economics room. “Come on. We’re running out of time.”

“We’re not going to be late again, are we?”

Yujiro shook his head, putting one hand up to be certain he didn’t dislodge his wig. “Come on. I’ll fix this.”

Mikoto looked at his smile worriedly. “That’s what I was afraid of….”

**

The auditorium slowly filled as the various classes filed in for the presentation and discussion on the upcoming trip. Mikoto hung around the wings, peering out at the incoming students and fidgeting slightly. Yujiro and Toru were his closest friends and their current behavior was freaking him out more than a little.

Not that he had anything against a pair of guys getting together, although he really didn’t feel terribly comfortable with the topic for a whole variety of reasons, but…. What if things fell apart? What if it all dissolved into a big fight? What if…? So he fidgeted and he waited and he worried. A lot.

Yujiro was capable of amazing things when he properly motivated, most of them outrageous, and Toru wasn’t exactly a slouch when it came to reacting to things that would have sent Mikoto either up into the light fixtures or to hide beneath his bed.

Mixing the two brought about terrifying mental images of the proverbial irresistible force and the immovable object, with poor Mikoto trapped between the two.

“What’re you so worked up over?” Toru peered over his shoulder into the auditorium, causing Mikoto to jump and nearly get his wreath caught on the edge of the curtain.

“AUGH!” One hand to his chest, he glared at Toru. “Don’t sneak up on a guy!”

Toru looked down at his little sandals, which were hardly quiet, and at the filmy, floating sundress and finally rolled his eyes up at the rather attention-getting wreath on his head. “Sneak?”

“You know what I mean.” Calming somewhat, Mikoto peered around the wings. “Have you seen Shihoudani?”

Toru shook his head. “No. Did he tell you what he’s up to?”

Mikoto shook his own head, one hand going up at the last minute to check his wig. They were all a little more wary since Yujiro’s accident the day before. “He just sort of smiled at me.” He imitated the expression as best he could and was gratified to see Toru shudder.

“It’s a lovely smile,” Yujiro assured them both sweetly, appearing seemingly out of thin air to hook his arm through Toru’s. “Come along, Toru. We need to show our solidarity to the ideals of Fujimori High School.”

Giving Mikoto a puzzled and slightly helpless look, Toru allowed himself to be dragged center stage just as the auditorium doors closed a final time, leaving him the focus of several hundred excited eyes.

A single microphone had been placed center stage, and Yujiro didn’t stop until they’d reached it. Turning on the charm, he raised an arm and waved to their audience. “Everyone, before the meeting begins, we owe all of you a very sincere apology.”

Freeing his arm, Toru also turned a dazzling smile on their schoolmates. He knew the picture they presented, girlish loveliness in yellow and blue, deliberately made to look as sweet and appealing as possible. “We forgot our duties and our love for our school and for all of you,” he gave them a sad look, one hand coming up to cover his mouth and looked away.

Mikoto was watching them both with raised eyebrows from the wings and Toru resisted the urge to make a face at him.

“We want to assure you that our silly, selfish disagreement is long over,” Yujiro assured them, throwing out one arm, “and we’re very sorry.”

“So very sorry,” Toru agreed softly.

“We’d like to assure you,” and Yujiro’s voice had a sudden sweetness to it that caused Toru to turn to watch him warily even as Yujiro’s hand closed over his wrist. “That it won’t happen again.”

Toru found himself dragged ruthlessly forward by a grip that looked perfectly careless as Yujiro’s other hand came to rest on his shoulder.

The image was lovely. Two colorful butterflies, momentarily lighting on the same flower, as Yujiro’s lips brushed Toru’s cheek. Sweet, even sisterly - if you were at least three feet away. From Toru’s standpoint, things were just a little different.

The hand resting so delicately on his shoulder was digging into his skin and the gentle brush of lips against his cheek was accompanied by the hot stab of a tongue. The flush that rose to his cheeks had nothing to do with maidenly modesty and affection and everything to do with shock and an immediate hot flush that wasn’t limited to his face.

Yujiro released him after only a second, turning to wave again to the crowd, a good half of whom were cheering wildly and the other half of whom seemed to be somewhat short of breath. Toru managed to dredge up a smile and waved as well. The iron grip that Yujiro had on his wrist didn’t slacken for an instant.

“We’ll be back after the meeting,” Yujiro assured the crowd, “all three of us. Please give your full attention to the Student Council, everyone!”

Toru continued to smile and wave as Yujiro led him from the stage and directly past Mikoto, whose look of uncertainty vanished into one of total mortification as Yujiro _shoved_ Toru against the wall and leaned into him. Lips brushing Toru’s ear, he hissed, “Not. A. Girl.”

Blinking furiously, Toru tried to formulate a response, but nothing came. After a long, frozen moment, Yujiro released him and turned away. A small voice in the back of Toru’s mind whispered, ‘You just blew it.’ Not giving himself time to realize what a terrible idea this was, his own hand shot out to close over Yujiro’s wrist and drag him back. If words wouldn’t come…?

Mikoto turned several shades of red and white, trying hard not to gibber as Toru kissed Yujiro, the delicate dresses and flowered wreaths not helping at _all_ to convince him that this was a pair of girls exchanging a sisterly kiss. There was nothing even remotely feminine about either of them at that moment, or the kiss itself. Pressed against each other, mouths sealed together... Yujiro’s wrist was still caught in Toru’s hold but neither touched the other beyond that, eventually breaking apart and simply staring, wide-eyed.

“Oh, this won’t end well.” Mikoto buried his face in his hands.

“What won’t?” Sakamoto appeared from behind a stack of props left over by the drama club, displaying a puzzled look. “It was very touching, I thought.”

Yujiro and Toru both jumped and nearly leaped apart as Mikoto’s mouth moved, but nothing audible came out. With a nervous laugh, Mikoto lunged to Sakamoto’s side, nearly dragging him toward the other two, obviously hoping that the presence of another witness would save him from any further displays.

“Did I miss something?” Sakamoto asked, looking from one flushed face to the next.

The triple chorus of, “NO!” was heard on-stage, earning all four a quelling glance from President Arisada for their interruption of his presentation. Beneath the implied threat of that look, all four rapidly settled down and the remainder of the presentation and the following discussion were carried out without incident.

**

It would have been impossible to have changed any faster than Mikoto did once they reached the Home Economics classroom, unless in possession of supernatural abilities or a time machine of some sort. With a muffled and high speed explanation that included the words ‘Megumi’ and ‘late’ he disappeared with suspicious haste.

“Coward,” Yujiro proclaimed, without heat. For once, the insult didn’t even slow Mikoto down.

Toru finished dressing and stepped out from behind the screened alcove in the Home Economics room with a raised eyebrow. “Coward? What’s _he_ got to be afraid of?”

“Are you saying that you’re afraid?” Yujiro gave him a sidelong glance.

Flushing, Toru held up a hand, palm out. “I,” he declared, “am not going to get into this with you right now.”

Yujiro looked around, knowing full well that Natashou would probably be by momentarily to check on the state of his precious dresses. “I see your point.”

He hooked his arm through Toru’s and, taking advantage of the other boy’s surprise, tugged him toward the door. “Our room, then.”

Eyes wide, Toru let himself be towed from the room.

**

There could have been a long, involved conversation, rife with touching moments and a reconnection. There could have been a touching confession of tender feelings and possibly a few tears.

There were no words at all, although the lack of an audience seemed to drain away some of Yujiro’s heated confidence. The door closed behind them and it was Toru who moved first, burying his hands in Yujiro’s long hair and leaning forward for a slower, more involved kiss than the hasty, hungry affair at the auditorium.

A hand slid to rest at the small of Toru’s back, twisting into a fist and pulling his shirt free. Fingers danced against bare skin as Toru’s grip in his hair tightened and Yujiro gasped into the mouth locked to his own, almost laughing.

There was a broken grace to the slide and clench of hands, buttons worked and shirts shrugged away without ever more than the occasional gasp for air to break the heated press and slide of mouths. They collapsed onto the lower bunk together without a thought as to why or what or even how, almost laughing at the sheer, exhilarating rush found in the simple press and slide of another body.

The morning found them tangled together, Yujiro sprawled across Toru, bare-chested and fast asleep as Toru played sleepily with the ends of his hair. There might be conversation later… or possibly not. For the moment, this would most certainly be enough.


End file.
